Compl'tely wrong
by takitaka
Summary: Poland and Turkey have a deep  and tipsy  discussion about religious matters.


**A/N** Notes at the end!

* * *

><p>It was rather simple and mutually agreed fact that there wouldn't be Poland without Turkey just like there wouldn't be Turkey without Poland.<p>

And okay, maybe it was true about practically every two nations that had as much as a grain of mutual relations – or relations through relations through relations, everybody gets the point.

Still, though, Turkey. Turkey was important to Poland and vice versa, if only because of their different religions. Religion in itself was always a good reason to widen one's borders, and with the absolute best of intentions too; like making other people see the light, introducing them to redemption, salvation, and a generally more interesting way of life (and afterlife, if required), while of course fighting those who tried to do the same to you.

If Turkey hadn't, once or twice, a long time ago, decided to march on Europe with his moon and in those sinfully – oh, maybe not the best choice of words here – fabulous clothes, Poland wouldn't have had any chance to bravely stand up against him.

(Or any chance to adapt the clothes for that matter, what would have been just all sorts of sad. That happened mostly through Hungary, though, relations through relations through...)

But yes, standing up, protecting, going to battles, even graciously allowing someone to help with those, maybe, in short – being one hell (huh...) of an IAntemurale Christianitatis/i.

And if he didn't have the chance to do all of that, where would it leave Poland now?

Well, Poland thought, definitely not on Turkey's couch.

Funny how the life turned out.

"Isn't it?" asked Turkey with a grin, and Poland realized that maybe mixing rakı with vodka wasn't the best of ideas if he couldn't even tell when he was voicing his thoughts out loud.

Turkey's laugh was a pleasant sound, but the point, Ithe point/i was—

"You can't make me Muslim, dude, just, like, it just doesn't Iwork/i."

And if his words were a little slurred, well, he'd drunk more than Turkey did. Besides they were Ihis/i words, and Poland allowed them to slur as much as they liked.

"Not tryin' to," argued Turkey because that's what Turkey did, apparently. "I'm just sayin', brat, that ya lot get all of it compl'tely wrong."

A bottle clanked and rolled under the table when Poland accidentally knocked it down when he tried to kick his host's leg. The problem was that there were at least three legs too many to choose from if he didn't count his own and he suspected that not all of them were even actually Ithere/i.

Finally he just kind of flopped across the couch and swung his own leg over Turkey's lap.

"Nope, we had that, y'know, ISibir/i..." No, that was not it, they moved on from complaining about Russia about half an hour ago. "ISobór/i! I mean, like, council, with those... with those really smart priest guys who looked at all the stuff and they could tell the bullshit from, like... the legit stuff."

Or something like that, anyway. Turkey was very keen on saying how his holy book hadn't been at all messed with, and while Poland didn't particularly care either way, he was pretty sure that good editing had never hurt any fine piece of literature before. You could get rid of the typos, for one. Even Lithuania made typos sometimes, so he was pretty sure the guys who wrote the Bible or whatever else did too.

Turkey didn't share his opinion, though. At least that was what Poland thought, because making that sort of snort involuntarily didn't seem very healthy.

"From the start, ya little brat, from the very start... Say, y'know, why ya make that," Turkey prodded Poland's knee to make him look up and then made a ridiculous gesture with his hand, like he was swatting away an annoying fly, "that cross sign?"

Poland stared at him rather blankly. "I really don't think I need to like, explain this to you. I mean. ICross/i. Sign."

Turkey shook his head, suddenly looking just a little bit more sober, and grabbed Poland's arm to haul him up to sit. "Wrong, that. I'll tell ya."

Poland groaned. He knew that particular face; actually, everyone who even barely knew Turkey knew it all too well – it was his "Story time!" grin, sure sign for everyone to either run away as quick as possible, or prepare themselves to sit through one of Turkey's infamous anecdotes.

After making sure that they were facing each other and that Poland was paying proper attention, Turkey patted his thighs excitedly and began, his voice suddenly clearer.

"One day, Isa was traveling through a dessert—"

"Jesus," corrected him Poland automatically because "Isa" sounded just way too similar to a girl name "Iza", and Poland couldn't help but think about that middle aged Iza Something from the airport that kept pinching his cheek, made him help her with her bags and told him her whole life story before he managed to escape, red, embarrassed and miserable. Needless to say it was a very, very traumatic experience and he didn't want to picture that scary woman throughout the whole ordeal.

Turkey actually glared at him (because one didn't just simply interrupt Turkey's stories, ever), and Poland blinked in what he hoped was a disarming manner.

"Isa," Turkey repeated, and Poland pouted, but kept quiet, "was, like usual, followed by many curious men that wanted to hear his teachin'. But he was deep in thought and no man dared to approach him like that, so they kept their distance."

"Isa was indeed ponderin' many things, until suddenly he heard a voice from above and stopped. All the people stopped as well, watchin' him carefully, but still not comin' any closer, so they could not hear what was bein' said, but saw him turn around and look up at the sky."

"And 't was Allah himself that told Isa: IIt can be time for you to go to heaven/i. 'nd He made a hole right in the sky for him, like a gate to go through."

Turkey stopped suddenly and his grin widened, clear warning for the upcoming punch line, and Poland fought to not answer with a grin of his own. As silly as it sounded, he enjoyed every and any stories about Jesus to a ridiculous degree and he had a few of his very own (and they were all just Ifab/i), so listening to that wasn't actually so bad.

"But Isa was skeptical since the entrance seemed small from where he stood. So he looked up and said, IM'Lord, but it is so very small; my head/i," here Turkey brought his right hand to his forehead, and Poland's eyes flickered in recognition of the gesture, "Iwill make it through, but what about my shoulders?/i"

Poland stared in disbelief as Turkey touched first his left, and then right shoulder while he talked, before joining his hands together in front of himself, his grin so wide it was a wonder it didn't break his face in a half.

"So Allah decided it wasn't time yet for him and as Isa's face was grave, no man asked him about the gesture, but they spread it among themselves, seein' as he made it while lookin' towards heaven," Turkey finished merrily.

And stared.

The silence stretched between them, Turkey radiating pure satisfaction like after every story well told, until Poland couldn't bite his bottom lip for any longer and shoved him hard in the arm, snickering.

"Oh my Igod/i, this is like, the silliest one you've told me yet!"

Turkey grunted happily, letting himself be shoved until Poland lost his balance and almost fell off the couch, at which point he put his arm around Poland's shoulders and pushed him himself in the other direction.

"Great one, though! Ha, brat, I can see ya liked it!"

Poland's chest and shoulders trembled with suppressed laughter, but he shook his head and wrestled against Turkey's hold for a while until he was sure he could speak without bursting into giggles. It really wouldn't do to let Turkey think his stories were that funny, after all.

* * *

><p>Notes: The story Turkey tells is actually sort-of-autentic, as in told once upon a time by a Muslim guy and heard by me thanks to a third party.<p>

Also, to make the whole thing a bit more understandable to those who may not know:  
>Turkey and Poland have a merry history of fighting with each other quite a lot, but strangely managing to have surprisingly good relations, all things considered. Thanks to all the fighting the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was also known as Antemurale Christianitatis - latin for "Bulwark of Christianity" that stood between Christian Europe and Islamic Ottoman Empire. It's actually one of the things that shaped Polish mentality. Some of the traditional Polish clothes also come from Turkey - like kontusz or żupan.<br>According to Islam, Jesus (Isa) was a prophet and raised by God to the heavens, instead of being crucified. Muslims also often consider Christians mistaken about many things, mostly because the Bible was rewritten, edited and generally changed many times, while according to tradition Quran remained in its original form, what makes it the perfect word of God.

Also also:  
>rakı - Turkish alcoholic drink;<br>Sibir - (Russian) Siberia;  
>Sobór - (Polish) ecumenical council;<p>

If I made mistake in any way here, apologies! Still learning and all, open for crit. It's meant to be a light thing, too, nothing deep!


End file.
